Reclaiming His Legacy

by Dani Wade

  What should I do? What should I do? Blake racked his brain for an answer.

  “Look, Marisa. Will you fill out paperwork that lets me take care of her?”

  “Well, she’s not gonna be in a good place with me. I just can’t deal with that stuff. As a matter of fact, the first time I get the chance I’m closing this baby factory.”

  Nice. “But Abigail? Will you let me take care of her if I can find a way to make it happen? And before you ask, there’s nothing in it for you. I’m all about Abigail right now.”

  “I guessed. Better double down over here if I’m gonna find a new man before Armand cuts me off. Take her.”

  Blake wanted to rail at the harshness of the conversation he just had as she clicked to disconnect. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t get lost over what Abigail did or did not have. He had to look to the future. He had to figure out how to use this new information to get what he needed. Without the diamond, this was his only option.

  If he lost Maddie in the process, so be it. But at least she wouldn’t have to know that he got involved with her under false pretenses. He didn’t want to hurt her like that, even though walking away from her would leave him out in the cold for the rest of his life. He’d never found anyone like her before, and he doubted he ever would again. But he couldn’t worry about that right now, or he’d be paralyzed with indecision.

  Instead he needed to figure out what he had to do to take over parental rights. He had a feeling his father wouldn’t want to be humiliated by having Abigail’s true paternity made public. Not to mention his lack of funds for a lawyer to fight for custody once her mother handed her rights over to Blake.

  He just had to hope in the end Abigail would have him. He wasn’t that much of a catch as a father, but he’d at least try. Which was more than his own father had done.

  * * *

  Madison strode back and forth across her bedroom, the sound of the squeaking floorboards more than a little satisfying. She wasn’t sure why; she wasn’t accomplishing anything. And she wished she could. She wished that she could stomp her way right over to Blake’s apartment and demand the truth. Even if her only source was a seven-year-old child.

  She just wanted to know: Was Abigail right? Had Blake and Armand been talking about her? Had Blake honestly met and dated her to try to get something out of her? And if they wanted something from her mother, why had they waited all these years? She wanted answers, not more questions.

  But she was also afraid to get those answers.

  Madison paced furiously, anxiety sending her energy into hyperdrive.

  Why had her mother told her none of this? She may have felt she owed her husband something, but what about her daughter? What about the life she left her to? And even though she knew her mom hadn’t left willingly, she had chosen to delay the inevitable until it was too late, leaving Madison with an adult-size responsibility and very few resources.

  How could she find the answers? She hadn’t missed a journal. Out of desperation, she walked over to the box and glanced over the half dozen, leather-bound journals. As she ran her hand over the spines, she suddenly remembered the pieces of paper that had been stuck in her mother’s journal the other day.

  Shifting the books to the side, she found the papers in the bottom of the box where she’d dropped them before leaving last week. Excitement caused her to breathe hard as she unfolded them. There was more of her mother’s handwriting on the pages, but this was different than the journal entries. This was addressed directly to her.

  Dearest Madison,

  I’m hoping you never have to read this. I’m hoping that the lawyer never has to give you this in the event of my death.

  What lawyer? Had her mother planned to take this to the lawyer to go with her will, and never made it?

  But I need to tell you a story. One that I should tell you in person, but I would do anything to not hurt your father. If I’m gone, you need to know this.

  When I was young, before I knew my own mind, I went along with what my parents told me to do. That was the acceptable thing in that time, for girls of my class. That you obey your parents, learn how to talk and act, not be too smart, or too sassy. Marry well and be an asset to your spouse.

  And I tried. I tried to make my parents happy. They were elderly, as I was a late-in-life baby, one that they never really expected to have. They always seemed frail in my mind and they didn’t live very long past my marriage to your father. Anyway, when I was finally of marriageable age, I was pursued by a man named Armand Boudreaux. He was well known in our social circles, and his family was very wealthy. He was slightly older than me, and well on his way to making his own fortune.

  Armand was mostly charming, but I quickly learned that he hid an often subtle cruelty. He wasn’t in love with me but seemed to want to acquire me because I exceeded his qualifications for a wife. And I think, on some level, that he thought I would counterbalance what he knew he was lacking in himself: compassion and a genuine interest in other people. Which would help cement his social status.

  At the same time, my parents were building a house, and I met a new young man. He was a very well-known architect and builder, rising quickly in fame and wealth. Handsome and articulate. I’ll admit, I became obsessed. Your father was smart and charming, and he understood me in a way that neither my parents nor Armand ever had. He brought out the best in me, and didn’t ridicule me for wanting to do things that didn’t seem to fit with my social status. He taught me to refinish furniture, build things. He encouraged me to paint and take pictures—lots of things that my parents didn’t understand.

  It didn’t take long before I was completely in love and stuck in a place I didn’t know how to get out of. Though my parents loved me, they were quite old-fashioned. I’d made a promise to Armand, and they expected me to fulfill it.

  There was also the social pressure of knowing that their peers would be there to judge the decision that their daughter made, and thus it would reflect on them. Every generation has peer pressure; it just comes in different forms. But in the end I couldn’t walk away from your father, so we eloped. On the eve of my wedding to Armand, I ran away with your father and left my parents and Armand letters telling them that I was sorry, but I could not go through with the wedding.

  I had every intention of returning the ring. The engagement ring that Armand gave me was more than special. The diamond was a rare oval blue diamond called the Belarus diamond. Quite famous, and quite expensive. But upon my return, I found that Armand had embarked on his own form of revenge. I’d known he would be upset, and I suspected he would lash out. But I never anticipated what actually happened.

  Armand went out of his way to ruin your father’s business. The one time I approached him, he called me some quite inappropriate names, and honestly I was afraid of him, so I never approached him again. As time went on it became clear that your father might have to relocate to save his business, so I decided to hold onto the diamond as insurance for my family to hopefully save us from the ruination that I brought upon them.

  Only we never had the chance to leave. Your father became ill and I thought the diamond would be the only thing to save us. But your father refused to allow me to sell it. He wanted no part of Armand and refused to listen to me.

  I could not go against his wishes, but I kept the diamond and hid it, so that you, my daughter, would have it should you need it. It is yours to do with as you wish. After all, it was a gift, and it would be my wish that you should never be so destitute that you feel like you cannot sustain yourself or your loved ones. I know that feeling well. And never ever want that for you.

  I’m sorry that I couldn’t make things easier. I love you and your father more than I can ever tell you. Be well, my child.

  Love, Jacqueline

  Madison flipped to the next page to find directions on where the diamond had been hidden. She stared for a moment, uncompr
ehending, then blinked. Her mother had put the diamond in a place no one would ever have looked for it. Genius.

  Without hesitation, she grabbed her shoes and ran out the door. Her jog across the back trail to Maison de Jardin was familiar and yet felt longer than she could have imagined. Her heart pumped from the run and in anticipation of what she might find. Would the diamond still be there?

  The house was quiet during the day, with everyone gone to various jobs or school. Madison made her way to the conservatory without running into anyone who might still be home, and quickly found the statue that her mother had indicated.

  Madison stared at it. She had always seen the statue as a representation of this place’s purpose. It was a little girl and her mother with their hands clasped and arms raised in dance. The purpose of this home had always been to bring happiness and joy to women and children who had been mistreated. To help them get back on their feet and find their dance again.

  Finally Madison moved around to the back of the statue and started to dig at the mound of dirt around the base.

  It took a couple of inches before she found the little compartment. Her smile felt like it lit up her whole body. Who knew there’d been a secret compartment all her life in the base of this statue?

  Unfortunately she couldn’t get it open, and had to go get a screwdriver to pry the edges apart. Finally it popped open, and Madison was able to work the little drawer out. Inside was a metal box, which she opened to find multiple layers of protective wrapping.

  But as she pulled away layer after layer, Madison could not believe her eyes.

  The fact that the diamond had an actual name should have been her first clue that it was something extraordinary. But that had kind of flown under Madison’s radar. The oval-shaped jewel was a brilliant blue color, so brilliant it made her gasp. It shone against her dirt-stained fingers. The size would have made it very uncomfortable to wear, in her opinion, but she could see why someone like Armand would give it to his future wife. By doing so, he could prove he was the best husband in the world.

  Only he didn’t realize money wasn’t everything.

  Suddenly she understood what her mother meant. Selling this particular ring, this particular diamond, would have taken care of them for life, no matter how many medical bills her father had. Madison wouldn’t have a house falling down around her ears. She wouldn’t have had creditors banging on her front gate.

  She wouldn’t have had to spend her high school years working after school, or taking on other jobs while caring for her father.

  Suddenly her elation faded. She could also now understand why someone might falsely portray himself, pretending to like or love her in order to get his hands on this.

  Was Blake really capable of that? Was every moment they’d been together a lie? Madison had to know.

  * * *

  I know what you did. Meet me at ASTRA.

  Blake clenched his fingers around his phone as he remembered the text he’d received from Madison last night. So he’d had an entire night to agonize over what had happened, wondering and worrying until he’d been sick to his stomach. She refused to answer her phone, which made him suspect she had turned it off after telling him when and where to be.

  That wasn’t like Madison at all, so he knew this was bad. Very bad. Which meant she’d found out something about the ring...and its connection to his family.

  Had it been Abigail’s innocent remarks over lunch that had alerted her? Had she found something in her mother’s journals that made the connection with his family? Had she put two and two together and come up with the original plan his father had put into place?

  Blake knew he couldn’t change what had happened before, but if she’d found out part of the truth, would she listen to him when he told her what he was trying to do now? His true role in this entire mess? What he hoped worked—for both her sake and Abigail’s?

  He stepped into the rotunda to find her staring at a painting across from him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. If he needed any evidence of her defensiveness, that would’ve been it. It wasn’t a position he’d ever wanted to see her in again. It reminded him that too much had been thrown Madison’s way.

  She deserved the best—much more than life had dished out to her.

  He approached cautiously, giving her a chance to see him out of the corner of her eye before he reached her.

  “Madison, what’s going on?” he asked.

  He expected tears or a defeated attitude. Instead she seemed to almost closed down. Only her eyes seemed sad. “I know what happened. Abby told me.”

  “Abby told you what?”

  Blake wished they weren’t in the rotunda. All of a sudden he desperately needed something to lean on, to support his shaky legs, but even touching the walls in here would set off an alarm.

  “When we went to the restroom, Abigail told me more about the ring. She recounted the conversation between you and your dad.” She waved her hand in the air as if to erase her words. “In a roundabout kind of way. She didn’t really know that it was about me. But it made me curious, so I went looking.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a box. A very expensive jewelry box. Blake held his breath as she opened it. Inside was the ring.

  Of all the things Blake had expected to see today, that was not one of them. He stared for a moment, almost bemused. It was incredible, just like all the reports had said.

  But he quickly moved his gaze back up to hers. There was no point in pretending anymore. “How did you find it?”

  Madison sucked air into her lungs, blinking away tears at his implied admission. “My mother left me a letter. One that she never got a chance to give to the lawyer. I found it in one of her journals. She explained all about Armand. And quite frankly, after hearing that, I’m not surprised that she kept the ring.”

  “She was well within her rights to keep the ring,” Blake insisted. “My father is...not an easy man.”

  “If he had just left them alone, she would’ve given it back.”

  “But he feels like he should have his cake and eat it, too. Which means being a major league asshole, and still getting his way.”

  Madison looked away, and he could see her bracing herself. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. “Why?” She glanced back at Blake and he could see the crack in the calm facade. The grief he’d never wanted her to experience again. She’d had enough loss. “Why would you do this? Why would you take it this far?”

  He wished he could give an answer that left him looking squeaky clean. But he didn’t have one of those tucked into his back pocket. “Maddie... Madison,” he stumbled over the nickname after remembering her assertion that it should only be used by those who’d earned the privilege. “I just want you to understand that I never meant to hurt you.”

  “And you think finding out that you met me and dated me under false pretenses wouldn’t hurt?” She stared at him for a moment. “Unless you never intended for me to find out?”

  “There’s really no way for me to defend myself against that,” he said, utter defeat a physical weight on his chest. Because if he’d had his way, she would never have found out about any of this. He searched for a way to tell her the story that would not make him look like an insensitive jerk, but there really wasn’t one.

  “There’s no point in me lying anymore,” he conceded with a grimace. “I went into this knowing that I had to hide my motives from you. I thought it would be a date, maybe two, and then I’d be out of your life. It would all be over. No harm done, and no lasting repercussions for anyone but Abigail, who would have a better life. But that’s not how it played out.” He stared at her, aching to take away the hurt that bowed the lines of her body. “I knew with every move, every choice, that this wasn’t right. But I simply could not stay away.”

  “And how I felt didn’t play into it?”

 
; “It did. But by that time I was in too deep and desperately searching for a way not to hurt you.”

  He didn’t want to offer excuses, but she deserved more of an explanation. “It was obvious that you did not have the ring yourself and didn’t know anything about it. I kept searching to keep my father at bay while I desperately tried to find some way to help Abigail.”

  “So what she said was true? Her father is going to...what? Trade his child for this?” She lifted the box once more.

  He knew it was unbelievable. But having Armand as a father convinced Blake his father spoke the truth. “I told you he was a bastard. That’s exactly what’s happening. He wanted me to find the ring and get it back for him, and in exchange I will get full parental rights to Abigail.”

  She stepped closer as a couple of women walked into the rotunda and began discussing the paintings. “Why would a parent do that?”

  “Madison, I’ve spent a lot of time with my father. And I’ve finally figured out that if you try to understand his motives, you’re just going to spend a lot of time banging your head against a wall.” He sighed. “No one can understand that, because we’re not like him. He is his own selfish, narcissistic self. That’s not going to change and the only option is to stop him at whatever cost. That’s what I’ve been trying to do. Why I tried to keep him away from you before.” But Blake feared he was fighting a losing battle. “Right now, I have to keep Abigail safe. Regardless of what I want, and regardless of the fact that I love you.”

  Madison’s whole body jerked. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “Please don’t say things you can’t mean.”

  Well, he hadn’t meant to say it but... “I did mean it, Maddie, and I will always mean it. But I fully accept why that would mean nothing to you.”

  He reached out to grasp her arms in an effort to get her to look at him. The touch was bittersweet, as he knew it would be his last. “I’m more sorry than I can tell you. I didn’t intend to get involved, I didn’t intend to fall in love, and I had no idea what an incredible person you really are. But I have to save Abigail. I’ve lived that childhood, and I will not allow her to live it, too.”